A long awaited visit
by PagesofPotter
Summary: Harry takes Ginny to visit his parents grave after the Battle of Hogwarts. A bit fluffy. Not sure if I've finished, but I haven't written much before so forgive any errors. I don't own anything Harry Potter.


The sun had barely broken through the cloud when a loud 'pop' echoed around the empty streets of Godrics Hollow. A pale milky light bathed the houses, and the grass in the small gardens was still sprinkled with dew. Harry's breath emerged as whisps in the cool air. He looked about him. The hollow was just as he remembered it, though it was Christmas Eve and covered in snow the last time he had visited. That was during the war.

The war had ended a few months ago. Since then the Ministry, headed by Kingsley Shacklebolt, had been tracking down the remaining Death Eaters and rebuilding Hogwarts, rebuilding life… Harry had been helping as best he could, while also trying to not be consumed by the overwhelming grief of having lost his friends, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Moody, Sirius. It often caught up with him in dreams, though at last his scar had stopped burning.

Ginny brought Harry back to the present by gently brushing his hands with her cold fingers. "Harry? Is that it? Over there?" Harry dragged his eyes from the vaguely familiar buildings over to where Ginny was pointing. Sure enough, there was the church, the gate, and the graveyard he recalled from when he was with Hermione. He nodded stiffly, a small lump forming in his throat. Ginny waited for Harry to start walking, before she followed, her hand in his.

Harry had wanted to bring Ginny to visit his parents' grave for a long time. He felt that his visit last time had been too fleeting; he had been in search of Horcruxes, and he and Hermione were soon distracted by a trap involving Nagini disguised as the ancient historian Bathilda Bagshot. He recalled, he had not even brought flowers to place by the grave stone. Now however, Harry held a large bunch of red and gold flowers, though they were slighty dishevelled by the Apparation.

Harry held the wooden gate open for Ginny to pass through. Small shadows were leaning from the graves as the sun climbed a little higher in the sky. He didn't remember exactly where his parents grave was. It had been dark, and the rows covered in snow. As Ginny's hand slipped into his again, Harry led them slowly past the first few lines, and under the huge tree that shaded some of the oldest stones. "I think it's one of those" Harry said gruffly, indicating a group of newer marble graves off the main path. They turned down a row, and both pairs of eyes flew over the carved names. Circling at the end of the row and walking back down another, Harry suddenly stopped. Two stones away from where they stood rose the huge white stone of his parents resting place.

The morning air caught in Harry's chest. As he and Ginny drew nearer to stand opposite, he felt his jaw clench, and eyes prickle. So much had happened since their death, and since his last visit. Returning was accompanied by a sense of accomplishment, as if he'd done his job and proved that his parents didn't die in vain. Harry looked at his father's name, and imagined James' proud hand clapping him on the back, his face smiling at Harry like a reflection of his own relieved happiness. His eyes dropped to his mum's name. A warm feeling filled him inside as he recalled what she had said to him as he walked through the Forbidden Forest to his death. She loved him, and he had done her proud.

Harry let out a shaky breath and felt a tear escape his eyes to trickle down his cheek. Ginny peered gently across at him. She didn't say anything, but she leant he head against Harry's shoulder and slowly stroked him arm. "It's just-", Harry faltered and wiped his eyes beneath his glasses. "It's so different now. I wish they could see it."

"They would be so proud of you" Ginny replied. Gazing at the gravestone shining in the dawn, Ginny couldn't begin to comprehend childhood without parents. Though her family had often been the cause of much annoyance and arguments, she appreciated how much support and protection her parents and brothers gave her. She had had a happy home, even through the war. And Harry had only ever shared in that, never really belonged anywhere…

Ginny kissed Harry gently on the cheek. "Are you going to lay the flowers?" Harry nodded. He knelt on the dewy ground and, in silence, laid the bright flowers beneath his parents names, rearranging them slightly before rising again. The air was still tight in his chest. "I feel like I should say something" Harry muttered. "But I don't know what…"

Ginny smiled and squeezed his hand. "You could tell them about us?" Harry looked from her to the grave. "May I?" Ginny asked tentatively, nodding towards the stone.

"Go ahead."

Ginny stepped forward and kneeled as Harry had done. Sitting back on her heels, she gently wiped dew drops from the smooth surface. She knew she should feel awkward, but here in the graveyard at dawn with only Harry behind her, Ginny focused on the etched names and leant her fingertips on the cold white marble. "Hello…" she paused, unsure how to start what she had wanted to say. "My name is Ginny Weasley." She felt Harry shift behind her. "I… I just want to say thank you to you both. Thank you for what you did, for defending Harry and for… sacrificing yourselves. I know you would be so proud to see what Harry and everybody has achieved." Ginny stopped and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Some of us have joined you." Memories of Tonks and Fred flew through her mind. Biting back her own tears, Ginny tucked her ginger hair behind her ear. "But, please, keep an eye on us here. We still need you, and we still remember." She turned to see Harry again wiping his eyes. She returned his smile, before turning back to the grave stone; "And I hope you're both ok with me and Harry. It will be carrying on for a long, long time."

Harry felt the tightness in his chest release. As he gazed down at Ginny, he knew that despite everything, he was one of the luckiest people in the world.


End file.
